Hot milk in a cold heaven

Marie thinks her husband is dead … no point in ordering a breakfast for him then. Actually he isn’t dead at all. Then it gets complicated …

Cold Heaven by Brian Moore

Brrrrrr ...

The breakfast waiter put his rump against the swinging doors of the kitchen and backed out into the breakfast room, balancing three trays of cafes complets. He turned around and went to Number 6, a Belgian couple and their daughter, putting in front of each of them a tray containing hot milk, hot coffee, butter pats, jam, marmalade, croissants, and petits pains. ‘Bon appetit,’ he told them and turned to see if any other guests had arrived. Number 24 was there, not the young man, just the young lady. He went over. He remembered that, although she was American, she had spoken French to him yesterday.

‘Bonjour madame. Vous avez bien dormi?’

Yes, Marie said, she had slept well.

‘Et Monsieur? Il arrive, Monsieur? Je vous apporte deuz cafes complets?

No, she said, just one breakfast. Monsieur would not come this morning.